I plop down and fall forward, my head hitting the banister with a crack. There’s no pain. I’m far too numb from the drugs to even know how badly I’m hurt. I grab hold of the banister and pull myself up again, then scoot down one step at a time. When I finally get to the bottom step I let out an ironic laugh. I got all this way—I can see the kit on the kitchen counter—and I’m gonna die here on the steps. Or maybe reaching for the kit, my hand outstretched—
Shut the fuck up and get over there!
That guy in my head is the one who needs to shut the fuck up, that’s what I think. In fact—I force my legs to stand. My eyes are almost closed, that’s how sleepy I am—I think I’m gonna kill that guy in my head with these guns…
Shit. The guns are up on the steps where I fell over.
I shake my head to try to snap out of the growing lethargy and drop to my hands and knees so I can crawl. My hair drags on the polished wood floor and I have a moment of relief that Case is so neat. No dust bunnies on his floor to soil my hair.
A laugh bursts out at that thought. I’m really fucking losing it.
I make to the bar and stand up. If I open that kit and there’s no antagonist in there to stop this drug, I will die laughing.
It’s in there, a little vial of clear liquid in a tightly sealed container. I rip the metal tab with my teeth, twisting the bottle, peeling it off. And then I rip open a sealed sterile syringe and push the needle into the rubber cap.
Poison training? I took that, right? Garrett told me how much of the drug to use for my body weight when we went over poisoning. I know he did.
But I have no clue. My arms are so heavy. My fingers barely work. So I draw in enough liquid to fill the syringe, pull it out of the rubber top, and stab myself in the upper arm.
I don’t feel a thing. Not the stab, not when I push the drug into the muscle, not when I fall over and barely avoid cracking my head on the floor as I hit the ground palms first. But I do know I’m still in the game if this works, because a snow machine roars past the house outside. He just left.
I come to screaming as I sit up straight. My lungs inhale a huge breath, a gasp that echoes up into the cathedral ceiling of the house. I am instantly alert and the past few hours come rushing back.
Case. That motherfucker.
Sasha.
Garrett.
I run up the stairs and get the gun case, opening it up there on the landing where it fell.
Three bullets. What fucking good are three fucking bullets? I run back in the bedroom and open the other nightstand drawer. But of course the other guns are gone. He took those and left these collector’s items behind with three stupid bullets.
I smile. I guess that just means there’s one for each of those assholes, and none left over to spare.
I load one bullet into the chamber of the first gun, and two into the magazine of the other. I dress in my snow gear and stuff the guns in my pockets as I head out into the cold. I reconnect the wires that I pulled out on the Snowcat to buy myself some time the other night when Case told me to leave, and follow his tracks down the trail.
“Even a man with nothing to lose can lose things.”
– Case
I cut the engine on the machine at the fork in the trail and haul my sniper rifle over my shoulder as I trudge through the snow. It’s a decision that will cost me some time—the snow is deep and I have to wind my way between drifts to make any progress at all. But this party only starts when I get there.
I’m the guest of honor.
The garage where I keep the trucks in the winter comes into view sooner than I’m ready for it. My heart—fuck, my heart has never been filled with such dread before in my life. I should’ve known it was Sasha he was after. I should’ve seen that coming.
But she’s been well-hidden over the years. Living out a quiet life in private schools and summers overseas with her adopted family. Good grades and dreams of the future driving her instead of looking over her shoulder. She’s had some trouble, but none of it was Company trouble.
Hell, even I stopped looking over my shoulder. It’s my own damn fault I’ve been up here preoccupied with his bait while he was planning how to get the only person I ever loved.
I walk slowly and carefully up to the back of the garage, my eyes darting up to the trees in case he came with a sniper.
But that’s not Garrett’s style. He works alone now and he uses women to do his dirty work. He’s always been like that.
He’s starting to remind me a little too much of myself.
I press my back against the garage and then peek around the corner, my rifle in the ready position, my eye looking down the sight.
A big, black truck idles in the center of the cul-de-sac. It’s pointing away from me, like it’s getting ready to leave. Black smoke puffs out of the tailpipe, clashing with the pristine white snow that surrounds it. It’s angled in a way that gives me a clear view of the passenger side, but not the driver’s.
Sasha is in the front seat. I know her profile. Her dark blonde hair is recognizable to me anywhere. I could pick her out of a crowd of hundreds of people.
It hits me then. He has my Sasha. He’s gonna kill her. Right here. Right now. And he’s gonna make me watch.
A sound disrupts my thoughts and then her door swings open.
I look through my scope to find him. Where are you, motherfucker?
Sasha is pushed through the door and falls out of the truck like a dead body. Her hands are tied behind her back, her feet are tied together, and there’s tape over her mouth.
My heart stops. And then she starts kicking her legs and trying to scream. And it starts again.
She’s alive.
“If you hurt her I will rip your goddamn throat out!” I roar it so the whole forest echoes with my threat.
Silence. And then the creak of the other door. He ducks getting out or I’d have his head already. But he knows me. I have skills he does not. Fucking punk.
“Did you hurt my Sydney, Case? Or don’t my girls matter?”
“Fuck you.” I duck back behind the garage and stalk the length of it, peeking out around the corner again and then making my way to the opposite side. Now I can see the truck a little better. More front on, but still, no Garrett in my sight.
“How about we play a game, Case? You tell me what you did to Sydney and I’ll tell you if I did the same thing to Sasha.”
All the things I put Sydney through flash into my mind.
“Drugs? Oh, that one’s a given. Sasha here might be a good shot, but she’s not been subjected to very many drugs, has she. It didn’t go well.”
My whole body heats up with rage.
“Torture?” he calls again. “Sydney is quite good at withstanding torture. But again, this one—not so much.”
“What do you want?”
“I want my girl back.”
“She’s at the house. Go get her.”
“Not that girl, Case.” He laughs. “You know how we have that whole I owe you, you owe me, and then we’re even thing going in the Company? Well, you owe me, Case. And today we’re gonna make it even.”
“There will be a day of reckoning. I call it a reality check”
– Sydney
The snow machine in the middle of the trail has me hyperventilating for a second before I figure out he ditched it to get the element of surprise on Garrett.